


The Beginning of Forever

by flightofmeraxes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightofmeraxes/pseuds/flightofmeraxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been many years, but the Hero of Ferelden finally accomplished her seemingly impossible task. There was a cure for the Calling. A way to end the nightmares, the singing, a way to live a long life, a way to serve the realm and still be able to serve yourself. All her time away, she sometimes forgot who she was now. She wasn't just a warden. She wasn't just the Hero of Ferelden. She was the Queen of Ferelden, and now her work was done, now she had fulfilled her duty and given her research to the Wardens, she had a new task, a new duty. She would return to Denerim, return to her king, and live the life she was so sure she would never get a chance to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of Forever

Denerim. How long had it been? Over ten years since she'd been here. The last time she'd seen this market place it had almost been burnt the the ground, the scars of the fifth Blight marred the area, the sound of women and children screaming as they ran from the evil that had ravaged Ferelden. She remembered the sights, the sounds, the smells all too well. The memory had become a part of her, a part that she could never erase, no matter how hard she tried. And now, as she rode through the market square, she was somewhat humbled to hear laughter instead of screams, to smell freshly baked bread instead of blood and fire, to see smiles on the faces of the people instead of the vacant expressions she had seen on the faces of the bodies that had littered the ground. She kept the hood of her cloak up, hiding her face from these people. She would never admit that these people were here, were alive, because she had united the armies of Ferelden to battle the hoard. It was a victory of alliance, she would say. But these people held her as the figure head of the victory. If they saw her face they would crowd her, hungry hands reaching out, desperate to be able to say they touched the legendary Hero of Ferelden, their beloved Queen. But she had more pressing matters today. Every fiber of her body ached to be in _his_ presence again.  
Alistair. Her Alistair. Her _husband._ It still felt strange to call him that, even after all these years. They'd never really had a chance to enjoy married life. Their wedding day had been the happiest day of her life. It had cemented in her the belief that all the sorrow, all the pain she had suffered in the events leading up to that moment, were worth it. She missed her parents and the people who had faithfully served House Cousland dearly, but as selfish as it might have sounded to those who didn't know what Alistair's love felt like, she would go through all the trials and horrors a thousand times over knowing that he would be the end result. They had consumated their marriage on the night of the wedding, and again and again for the two weeks after, and then she had left him. She had been ready to leave, to find the cure for a while, but the thought of telling her new husband that she was leaving him indefinitely put a knot in her stomach, and every time his innocent, loving, caring gaze fell upon her, she swallowed her words. When she finally put her foot down, the pair of them had wept for hours, holding each other, unmoving, not wanting to let go and live even a day without one another. For so long they had traveled together, seeing each other every day. They knew one another better than they knew themselves, and to be without their love would be like being left alone in the void. But she'd done it. She'd left. She'd packed her bag and ridden out of the palace grounds, refusing to look back, for she knew if she looked back into those eyes, she would never be able to leave. She granted herself one look when she reached the main road, almost an hour's ride from the palace, and she could have sworn she could make out a tiny dot standing there in the courtyard looking back at her.  
Now here she sat upon the same mount she'd left on, in the same place she'd stopped to turn back, and for some reason she couldn't push the horse on. She stared at the palace, her stomach clenching at the thought of him being in there, somewhere, none the wiser that his wife was so close. What if he had fallen out of love with her? They had met a few times over the years, she had written him when she had decided to stay in one place for a while and he had ridden out to meet her, all on his own. He would travel for days, even weeks, just to spend a few hours with her, and then she would force him to leave, else she would never send him back, or worse still, she'd allow him to convince her to go back with him. Every time he would scold her, tell her she didn't need to do this, and she would scold him back, tell him that it was not just her duty as a Warden, but her duty as a wife, because neither of them would let the other cast their life aside should one of them hear the Calling. Neither would allow the other to venture into the Deep Roads alone. They would go together, they both knew that. But they also both knew that they would sooner knock the other out and leave them tied up in a barn somewhere, and be deep underground before they awoke. She would tell him she would never stop searching until their only option was to grow old together.  
She was snapped out of her deep thought by the sound of a loud barking in the distance, and her eyes focused on a dark shape careering towards her. She kicked the horse into a trot, squinting her eyes to see what was approaching. "Hafter!" she cried out, kicking the horse into a full on gallop, meeting her old Mabari hound half way. She pulled the horse to a halt, leaping from the saddle and kneeling in the dirt, arms outstretched as the beast slammed into her full force, showering her face with slobbery licks, his short, stubby tail wagging so enthusiastically that his entire body shook with the effort. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she first gently held him, and then tightened her grip, clutching her old friend close to her body. He licked the tears from her face and she pulled back to get a better look at him. Maker, he'd aged. She remembered him being muscular, agile, bright eyed, but now he was sway backed, eyes still twinkled slightly, but seemed to have begun to cloud over, and his once black masked face was now flecked with white fur. He pushed his face into her chest and tried to curl up in her lap, but she patted him gently on the back. "Come now boy, let's get you back inside," Elissa whispered, scratching him gently behind the ear. He leapt up and trotted off before her as she led the horse along the path.  
When she reached the courtyard, a young stable boy came out of the barn, alerted by the sound of the horse's hooves. "Who goes there?" he asked, frowning at the hooded figure. She pulled her hood back slightly, revealing her face to him, and he paled. "M-M-Maker... My queen..." he breathed, "My ap-apologies Your Majesty, I didn't know..." She held a hand up and smiled. "Quiet yourself, child," she replied softly, "It's no cause for an apology. Could you tell me where I might find the king?" The boy nodded enthusiastically, taking the reins from her leather gloved hand. "He's in his study, Your Majesty, he spends most of his time in there," he answered, and then his eyes went sad. Elissa stepped forward, trying to make eye contact with him. "How has he been? Is he well?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. The boy looked into her eyes, "He is an excellent actor, Your Majesty. He is a good man, tries his hardest to be kind to everyone. Everyone but himself, if I dare be so bold to say," he said nervously, "He speaks of you a great deal. I'm not sure if he's ever gone a half day without mentioning you to someone." She smiled at that, making her excuses and leaving the boy. She needed to see Alistair.  
She wandered round the hallways of the palace, smiling as she remembered every inch of it. She had half expected to feel like she was walking into an unfamiliar place, but even though she had only officially lived here for a couple of weeks, she seemed to find her way to the study as though she had walked this route a thousand times. Perhaps, she thought, it was just because she knew her love was in the study, and her body just knew where it needed to go. Perhaps they were just drawn to each other like the waves of the Waking Sea were drawn to the coast. She noted the servants and the guards stepping back and gasping as they passed her in the halls, as though they were seeing a ghost. Each one bowed and curtseyed to her, mumbling polite greetings to her and then whispering excitedly behind her back. When she finally reached the study, she had been hoping the door would be closed so she could compose herself before entering, but when she turned the corner she saw the door stood open, and she could see the side of his body peeking out around the door frame. She leaped back behind the corner, pressing her back into the wall. She took and deep breath. And another. And another. Part of her wanted to run away. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? It had been at least two years, maybe more, since their last meeting. What if he'd fallen in love with another? Could she truly expect him to just drop everything because she had took it upon herself to return? What if he had simply fallen out of love with her? She buried her face in her hands, feeling the telltale sting of tears pricking the backs of her eyes again. Another, final breath to steady herself and she stood up straight. If she could face a hoard of darkspawn, a high dragon and Maker knows what else, surely she could survive a conversation with her husband. Right?  
She started out so well, marching down the corridor like a woman on a mission, but as soon as she got close enough to announce herself, she stopped dead in her tracks. She silently cursed herself, pulling her cloak off and burying her face in it. _Stop being such a fool!_ she told herself, _He's right there, you can do this!_ She removed the cloak from her face, eyes still scrunched shut. She took yet another 'final' deep breath, opened her eyes and gasped. There he was, in the doorway, staring at her. His hair was longer, almost to his shoulders, and he had significantly more facial hair than the last time she'd seen him. He had a few lines on his forehead, and crows feet at the corner of his eyes. _Good,_ she thought, _That's a sign of laughter, I believe._ But it was definitely him. His eyes were the same. She could still get lost in them. His face still wore the freckles she'd always found so adorable, and reminded her of the young, 19 year old boy she'd fallen in love with all those years ago. His broad shoulders and strong arms, muscular chest and long legs were exactly the same, garbed in casual finery. Elissa wasn't sure how long they stood there in silence, staring at each other, but it was he who made the first move. He edged towards her gingerly, stopping before her to raise a hand to her face. He moved so slowly, as though he was afraid he'd frighten her away if he moved too fast. When his fingers finally settled on her face, he stroked her cheek ever so gently. The tips of his fingers then ventured to her nose, her eye lids, and finally her lips, gently pulling her lower lip down slightly, revealing her teeth behind. He took a deep, shaky breath, and she noticed a small, fat tear emerge from his eye and roll down his cheek. She stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss the tear away, tasting the salt on her lips. "Are you... Maker... Are you really here, or is this just a dream?" he said quietly, his voice hoarse. "No illusions, no dreams," she whispered, "I'm back for good now, my love. I'm never leaving you again, for as long as I live." He smiled then, the most brilliant thing she'd seen in a long time. She would have left him to smile some more, so she could admire his magnificent face and the way it was like a gift from the Maker, but she couldn't stop herself from lunging forward to kiss him.  
The moment their lips touched, it was as though no time had passed between them at all. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him, so close they almost became one person. Her hands reached up, one clutching his shoulder, the other buried in his new mane of golden hair as their mouths locked together. They were desperate, hungry, almost unable to breath. It was overwhelming, but they couldn't stop. Teeth clashed together, lips swelled under the bruising pressure, and she felt the familiar pool of arousal behind her navel coming to life again after so long. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, a deep moan emerging from his throat as her hips bucked into him, their bodies rubbing together in a tantalizing dance. When they finally broke away, gasping for air as though they had been drowning in the deepest lake, he grabbed her face between his hands, staring into her eyes as if he was trying to savour the moment, like he was going to wake up any second and she'd be gone. She put her hands on his chest and rested her forehead against his. "I'm here, Alistair," she insisted, "Now, I've forgotten where our bedroom is, would you care to show me the way?" He smirked, crouching slightly to lift her over his shoulder. She squealed as he scooped her up as easily as one would pick up a tiny nug, and carried her off to the bedroom, the pair of them giggling ludicrously like the pair of teenagers that had fought the Blight side by side.  
When they reached the bedroom, he pulled her from his shoulder and laid her ever so gently on the bed. She practically felt her body sigh as it came into contact with the soft mattress and the luxurious quilt, so different from the rock hard beds and threadbare blankets she'd gotten so used to. But she had no time to appreciate the bed, she needed Alistair, needed to be with him now. He must have felt the same, because all of a sudden he was above her, pulling her cotton shirt over her head, followed by her breast band and freeing her breasts. He stopped to admire them, reaching out to cup them gently, his thumbs flicking over the pink nipples that hardened under his touch, eliciting a moan from Elissa. She arched her back, pushing into his hands, another moan escaping her lips when one of his hands was replaced by his mouth. His tongue ventured over the peak, and he sucked hard on her, almost bruising her skin. He moved across to the other side, lavishing this one as well, and Elissa's hands moved to his hair again. She could see herself becoming obsessed with this new style. "Oh, I like this," she breathed, her nails gently scratching along his scalp. He groaned against her skin, leaving her nipple to move down her stomach, leaving feather light kisses on her body, his hands moving down to grab at the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down with her small clothes whilst she kicked her boots off. When he was done, he stood again, pulling his own shirt over his head and revealing his toned body. She stared, unable to believe that this man was all hers. Her eyes roamed over his chest, covered in a light coating of dark hair, down to his stomach, the abdominal muscles from his youth still there, albeit not as prominent as they'd once been. Her eyes followed the thin trail of hair beneath his belly button that disappeared into his breeches, and she sat up, lurching forward with shaky, anxious hands as she pulled at the laces. When she was done, she yanked the breeches down, freeing his growing erection. She took a deep breath, feeling the ache between her legs as her eyes traveled along his length. She couldn't wait any longer, and it seemed neither could he. He reached down and swept her up into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. He knelt onto the bed, laying her back down and positioning himself above her. He pressed his lips to her, gently this time. Now he seemed certain that she wasn't going anywhere, he seemed happy to slow things down, to luxuriate over the woman beneath him. He broke away from her lips, moving to the sweet spot on her neck. He had never forgotten, ever since that night in camp when he had brushed it with his hand when he had gently swept a bug from her skin and she'd gone weak at the knees. He'd tortured her with pleasure, knowing that this tiny little area was a direct route to her nether regions. "Alistair," she moaned, her hips beginning to move against him, "Alistair, please!" He pushed himself up, the same satisfied, cocky grin on his face that she loved, his hand moving down to guide himself towards her entrance. When he thrust into her, they both cried out, relishing in the feeling of their bodies joined together again at long last. She hooked her arms beneath his, curling them back up to clutch his freckled shoulders as he began to move, his hips moving expertly, never forgetting just how to bring her pleasure. His ragged breath in her ear was just as arousing as the feeling of him moving inside her, knowing that her body was capable of eliciting such labored breathing from him. She turned her face to his, and his lips found his way to hers, pausing to kiss her deeply, their tongues dancing around one another. She could tell he was close, she knew him well enough to know that the little furrow between his brows meant he was ready to come, and so she began to move her hips beneath him, bucking and grinding up into him. He pressed his face into the crook between her shoulder and neck, biting gently on the skin there as she moved to bring them both to their climax. He moaned into her neck, his own instinct kicking in as he began to move again, thrusting into her faster now, a desperation to his movement. She felt the telltale pull of her own end coming, the pressure now beginning to grow deliciously between her legs as her walls tightened around him. Alistair let out a low, animalistic growl as he spent himself inside her, and Elissa matched him with her own moan, her legs tightening around him and her nails digging into his shoulders, now slick with sweat as the pressure spiked and became almost overwhelming. He moved to rest his forehead against hers as their breathing slowed, basking in the bliss and heat of their love making.  
Over an hour later, they were still laid there on the bed, having hardly moved an inch. Alistair had moved down Elissa's body slightly, his head resting against her breasts, seeming to be soothed by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the sound of her heart beating softly. Elissa felt more at peace than she'd ever felt in her life, the fingers of one hand intertwined with his, the other hand alternating between tracing gentle circles in his scalp and across his shoulders. She felt Alistair's sudden chuckle rumble against her stomach. "You know," he said quietly, "I remember a time when we had no clue how to do that." Elissa laughed and shook her head. "Do I still make you feel like your head's about to explode?" she asked, teasingly, remembering the way he'd approached her, sweat on his brow, to tell her he wanted to spend the night with her, his first time, and her's. He'd been so nervous, so young and inexperienced, and yet neither of them had anything to compare to, so for them that first night had been perfect. Elissa remembered being a young girl in Highever, wondering what her first time laying with a man would be like, and now that she had experienced it with Alistair, she realised just how lucky she was that it had been with him. He had been so attentive, constantly checking to make sure she was enjoying herself, so earnest in his care, trying so hard not to hurt her. And he didn't. She'd heard so many girls say that their first time was terribly painful, that they had bled, and that if it weren't for the fact that they were expected to produce heirs, they would have been put off after their first try. But for Elissa, her first time with Alistair had been a night she could have happily relived every day for the rest of her life. "Absolutely," Alistair replied, turning his head to kiss her between her breasts. When he rested his head back on her chest again, he took a big, deep sigh. "I thought you were never coming back," he whispered, "I thought we were never going to be together again." Great, Elissa thought as tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time that day. "There was so many times I thought you were going to hear the Calling while I was gone," she whispered, "I thought I was going to come back with the cure only to find I was too late, and that you'd traveled to the Deep Roads months ago." He sat up then when he heard her voice quivering. Alistair had always hated it when she cried. He'd never really known what to do with himself. Having done most of his growing up around boys, he'd never learned how to comfort a crying girl. But now it made him horrified to see her cry because he knew she was crying over him. He climbed back up the bed to lay beside her, pulling her into an almost crushing embrace as she sobbed into his chest. "I'm so sorry," she cried, "So much of your life has been wasted waiting for me to come back, you've missed out on so much because you were waiting for me to come back." He stroked her hair, hushing her gently. "Don't be so daft," he whispered, "It wasn't wasted. I knew you'd come back. All those years of waiting were so worth it to have you back here in one piece." But she carried on sobbing, apologising over and over again. "Forgive me, my love," she whimpered, "I don't deserve it, but please forgive me." He grabbed her face roughly, pulling her back to look into her eyes. "There is _nothing_ to forgive," he hissed, " _Nothing._ You are a hero, Elissa Theirin. You deserve to be worshipped, and I will strive to do that until the end of my days. You have done so much for this country and the sooner you realise that, the better. Maker, but you are so silly. My silly, silly wife." He crushed her lips with his own, not waiting to hear the inevitable protests and disagreements she had prepared to throw back at him. As far as he was concerned, the matter was closed. He may have been the king of Ferelden, with all the wealth and riches he could dream of with his big palace and his army and all his staff at his disposal, but if he had to chose between that and Elissa, he would go back to living on the road, with no money and no palace and no staff and no army to protect him, as long as she was at his side. There was no way he was ever going to let her out of his sight again, and he was going to spend every day for the rest of his life making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

 

Twenty years on, and two children later, and King Alistair and Queen Elissa were still both expecting to wake up from their incredible dream.


End file.
